The Seven Faces of the Snake
by shen summoner
Summary: Crossover fic between Harry potter and Great Gatsby. Hermione has heard a lot about her neighbour's parties. The day she decideds to go to one of them, may turn out to be the best or worst decision of her life.
1. Prologue

**THE SEVEN FACES OF THE SNAKE**

PROLOGUE

Harry was woken by a sharp rap on his door in the middle of the night. He checked the digital clock on his night stand which said that it was three a.m. He was curious as to who'd be at the door at this time in the night, or more correctly, morning. He hurriedly put on a t-shirt as the rapping on the door became more incessant. He fumbled for his wand and looked through the peephole.

His eyes widened as he saw who it was. He hurriedly opened the door to find Hermione Granger, his best friend, soaking wet, shivering to the bone, and cowering against the doorframe, her body wracking with sobs.

"Hermione what's wrong? What - "

"You were right Harry. Right from the very beginning. I shouldn't have trusted Phillipe O'Dare. "

A/n - This is very short I know, but it's a prologue. There will be more to come. And the story is an original idea of the talented fanfiction writer Craft Rose. She never got to updating the story and deleted it a few months back. I really liked the idea, so here I am. Hope you enjoy. Don't forget to review lovelies :)


	2. Chapter 1

**THE SEVEN FACES OF THE SNAKE**

**CHAPTER 1**

Harry led a sopping wet Hermione to the couch in his sitting room, got her a towel to dry herself with, then seemed to remember that he was a wizard and could use a simple drying charm. He conjured up a fire in his frequently used fireplace and got her a mug of hot cocoa.

"Okay Mione, tell me what happened. And from the beginning."

**7 weeks earlier, Sunday**

"Do you really want to attend this party Cecilia? And if yes, can't you go by yourself?"

"Of course I CAN Hermione, but I don't want to. And aren't you the least bit curious? I've heard of Phillipe O'Dare's weekend parties all the way down to Australia. So I just knew that when I came to London I would just have to attend one. And you live in his neighbourhood! What's he like?", she asked with a faraway look in her eyes.

"That's the thing, Cecilia, no one really knows what he's like. I live in the neighbourhood and even I don't have the faintest clue as to how he is and what he looks like, let alone know his disposition. There have been rumours of course, but then again, one never knows the absolute truth."

"Well I'll tell you what I've heard. I've heard that he's an Hogwarts graduate who hardly ever shows his face because he is wanting in the conversational skills department. Another vague story I've heard is that he took part in the second wizarding war and was so greatly disfigured that he is ashamed to meet with people."

"Yes, that could be a possibility but what I've heard people say is that Mr. O'Dare was responsible for such atrocious crime in the war that he wears a fake identity to prevent him from getting arrested."

"The thing is that these just sound like a bunch of cooked up stories, don't they? I would awfully like to meet with the real O'Dare and find out about his inner feelings and who he is and whether he is aware of all the rubbish rumours floating around about him," Cecilia said, wistfully.

"Then you might be very surprised, and not pleasantly, when you go to this party tonight. He has been hosting them for nearly one year now and I don't believe anyone has ever received a formal invitation. People just show up in abominable numbers and he welcomes them with open arms, or doors actually, since I doubt anyone but his house help have actually seen him."

"Well why wouldn't he welcome them with open doors? Have you seen the size of his mansion. I could probably fit a hundred of my house in it. But I want to know one thing. If he really is such a recluse, why keep such ostentatious, loud parties to attract attention towards himself?"

"Now that, you see Cecilia, is a question I have been harbouring in my heart for the full year I've lived here. I guess O'Dare is like one of those mysteries in life. You know, the ones you never get an answer to and wonder about your whole life, in expectation to be satisfied with an explanation fitting it's mystery, but actually die curious. Maybe he is a mystery which will never be resolved..."

"Now aren't you a little ray of sunshine, hoping for the best huh? Anyway, get dressed because we ARE going to the party!"

Phillipe O'Dare's mansion was just a walking distance from Hermione's house. If the vast garden area with the numerous tall trees which surrounded his mansion were removed, Hermione and he would be next door neighbours.

Every weekend, the servants and house elves started with the preparations of the party from early morning. The lawn was mown, the flowers picked, and each and every nook and cranny of the house receive undivided attention in terms of dusting and cleanliness.

Come 5 o'clock, and each and every room in the house would be lit so bright it would be like a fire is burning in all of them. His brightly lit house, surrounded by the darkness of the neighbouring cottage and garden made a lovely comparison to the sun surrounded by darkness in the universe.

"Do you think we're over-dressed? " she nervously asked Cecilia.

"Of course not honey. Have you seen some of the clothes the others wear? Absolutely atrocious. You look like a goddess."

And she really did. She was wearing a cream gown with a sweetheart neckline, held up by broad lace straps which crisscrossed here and there. It was decorated with pearls and on the whole, was simple but also elegant. Cecilia, however, had gone all out with a slinky midnight blue dress, with a low neckline and a high slit. Nonetheless, she still managed to not look vulgur and that was no surprise to Hermione. Cecilia had left her hair pushed over one shoulder, coated in a lot of gel to set her waves in place. On the whole, the look was very retro chic. Hermione had gone for a very simple bun which she felt accentuated her high cheekbones.

She would never admit it but she was very excited to attend this party. She had heard a lot about it and could even see most of it from her house. However, she thought it awfully rude to step into someone's home without invitation and that is why she had restrained from going for a year. But then her friend had showed up and successfully manged to drag her here. Maybe she was destined to attend at least one party.

As they rounded the garden, she could already see the numerous cars parked in front of the mansion. It looked to be a hotel, more than anybody's home, what with the hustle and bustle of the evening's festivities.

As they reached the shining metallic gates of the mansion, they were greeted by two servants, manning the doors on either side. They walked along the stone path, lined with colourful pebbles and finally arrived at huge wodden doors which were wide open to welcome everyone in.

Here goes nothing, she thought, and stepped into the grand foyer. They were immediately greeted by the sight of a party in full chaos. There were people in every inch of the palatial hall, it seemed. Women, men and children alike, all of them dressed to the nines. Most of them were drunk, as she could see, from the monster-sized trophy-shaped goblet, most probably filled with firewhiskey, which was the centre of attention in the room. There was a magnificent staircase, winding up on either side of the goblet, leading to unknown areas of his house. There were people going up and coming down these staircases, roaming about the inner-balcony style first floor. However, all the rooms seemed to be locked as not one of them were going in and out of the various rooms beyond the inner balcony.

Just in front of the grand goblet was a beautiful grand piano which was manned by a curly-haired, bespectacled pianist who was frantically beating at the keys as though his life depended on it. She wondered how even after hitting at the keys with so much vigour, they were still intact and how he still managed to produce such peppy, in-tune music.

She looked around her to say this to Cecilia, to find that her friend had disappeared in the midst of these innumerable unknown strangers. She craned her neck to look for her and found her with a man who was most probably American, flirting with him shamelessly. She shook her head at this. Cecilia really was incorrigible. She thought back to the many days she had spent with her in Australia when she had gone to relocate her parents. She went into deep thought and did not notice when someone came up behind her to tap on her shoulder to bring her out of her reverie.

"Might I know where you've been all this while you beautiful, beautiful lady?"

"Oh my Merlin! Is it really Jordan Baker? What a pleasant surprise! Where have you been all these years Jordan?"

"Well I might ask you the same thing. Just disappearing after one year of healer training and not staying in touch with me. If I didn't know you better, I'd say thay you have been trying to ignore me all these years" he said with a mischievous grin.

"Oh Jordan, try how I may, I will never be able to ignore you. You're much too attractive for your own sake."

He really was. She had become very good friends with him during healer training but had lost all contact when she had moved to Australia for a couple of years. Now she'd been back in London for a year and felt very bad that she hadn't thought of establishing contact with her old friend even once. Jordan was, well, Jordan. Tall, intelligent, handsome, and just overall brilliant, age seemed to have done him good. He now looked even better than before.

"So what have you been doing all these years Jordan? "

"Oh you know, nothing much. I just got promoted to Assistant Director of the Mental Ward of , actually. So life went on, even after you left, so don't worry about that."

"Wow Jordan! Assistant Director is a huge honour. You should feel happier and prouder of your achievement."

"Enough about me now, Hermione. What have you done with your life? "

Not much, she thought inadequately. "I've just gone on with life too. When I was unable to relocate my parents in Australia, I gave up my healer idea to become a trained child-caregiver. I now have a school both in London and Sydney. So that's why I travel a lot, backpacking between the two places. I've taken a sort of break though, from the school in Australia, so I'll be here for at least three more months, without travelling anywhere. I live next door actually."

"You do? Well thats funny because I come to these parties almost every other weekend and I've never seen you here even once."

"Oh well. Let's just say I was a bit, uhm, uncomfortable coming here" she admitted with a casual shrug of her shoulders. "Now what say we sit outside in the garden and catch up huh?"

"That's a brilliant idea Hermione. Good to know your head still works as well as it used to."

"Oh shut up, Baker."

The back-garden of O'Dare's house was as magnificent as it's inside. It was a sprawling area, marked with benches at regular intervals. There were these 18th century antique lamp posts which gave a distinct aura to the whole place. The garden overlooked a huge swimming pool and beyond that was a high wall, which kept intruders out and a sense of mystery alive.

The two friends sat on a bench just near the pool. Hermione was transfixed by the gleam of moonlight on the water. It was such a brilliant night that she could see her own reflection very clearly.

"So tell me Hermione. Did you miss me at all during your stay in Australia? "

"Of course I did Jordan. As if I could ever forget you. Anyway, how about you? Are you married or whatever?"

"Nope. Not married and no girlfriend. "

"Oh."

"So enough with the awkward silence. Tell me what you did in Australia. "

And there they sat for at least an hour, catching up on old times and reminiscing about the past. She had dropped her head onto his shoulder and was actually beginning to doze off, when the hurricane called Cecilia strode over to where they were sitting and demanded an explanation as to why she was outside and not enjoying the party inside.

"It's just that it's so crowded in there Cecilia. And I am enjoying. With my friend Jordan. Jordan, this is Cecilia. She is the one who forced me to come to this party today."

"And for that I must dearly thank you Cecilia because this young friend of mine had successfully eluded me for the past couple of years."

"Yes she has a habit of doing that. Anyway now the both of you come inside and dance a bit."

"Well not me because I have to go home early today. My sister will be coming back from a trip and I need to be there when she does."

"Oh okay Jordan but do come around the house sometime too will you?"

"As you wish my lady," he said with a wink and walked away towards the gates.

They walked back inside hand in hand, but when Cecilia started pulling Hermione to the dance floor she stoutly refused and let go of her friend. Cecilia threw a fit for exactly about five seconds until her attention was caught by a man who was probably Scottish.

Hermione sighed. Jordan was gone too and she just didn't know what to do with herself. That's when she started moving up the staircase, her hand lightly trailing behind over the banister. Mostly everyone had taken to the dance floor. She reached the landing of the first floor and let her curiosity get the better of her as she surreptitiously tried one locked door after another. She reached the other end of the floor in no time at all to find a very narrow, dimly lit flight of stairs leading up to another floor. She went up cautiously and was greeted by a single door at the top. Probably an attic, she thought as the door was very much like a dead end. Unless... she twisted the doorknob and was actually surprised to find that it turned. That's a first, she thought, as the door creaked open.

She walked inside to find the room engulfed in darkness. She groped about the walls for a switch but was interrupted by an arm around her waist. She gave an alarmed shriek as she turned to see who it was behind her. She inched her hands up towards her thighs to reach for her wand stuck in place by the leg-holster so that she could cast a lumos as well as protect herself. But the stranger had other plans in mind as he stopped her hand with one of his and covered her cherry mouth with the other.

"Might I ask what you're looking for, Ma'am? ", he asked, no, demanded, in an authoritative tone. His voice was melodious and sultry and it made her want to fall asleep listening to it.

She pulled herself together, straightened her shoulders and struggled against the man who had now cornered her against the wall, successfully caging her.

"Anf mgft I fask whyf youf -" Her words were suppressed by his hand. He noticed this and slowly removed the hand covering her mouth

"And might I ask why you're manhandling me?"

"Why were you snooping about?"

"What business is it to you? As far as I checked, you have no right to be snooping about too."

"But as a matter of fact i do, Ms. Granger. "

Her eyes narrowed into thin slits.

"How do you know my name?", she asked suspiciously.

"It would be strange if I didn't, considering you're my neighbour. "

Her eyes widened. Was this man telling the truth? Was her really...

"You're Phillipe O'Dare?"

"Yes I am."

"Oh... I, uhm, I'm very sorry to be snooping about your house sir. It's just that I have an incessant need to find out everything and explore the unexpected. I let curiosity get the better of me sir. I'm extremely sorry sir. It won't happen again."

"One should never let anything get the better of ourselves, Ms. Granger. Now if you don't mind, might I take you downstairs to enjoy the party? Unless of course, you wish to stay in this musty old attic."

"Oh not at all. I'll just leave. I have to go back anyway."

"So soon? Won't you stay for the fireworks? It's the best part of the evening."

"Actually I don't know anyone here other than the one friend I came with and she is busy with something else so I was feeling a little bit bored. That's the main reason I came up here in the first place. So I think I'll just head back home."

"But you must stay for the fireworks. And as for the company, I'll entertain you. I am the host after all and I wouldn't like to see one of my guests leave without enjoying. If you don't like the hustle bustle of the party then I know just the place for you. You'll have some peace and be able to watch the fireworks display as well."

"Oh well.. I don't know I -"

"Come on Ms. Granger. Loosen up a little. Come with me."

She looked up at him. They had by now descended down the narrow stairs she'd come up and she could now see him clearly. What's funny was that he was wearing a cream mask with eggshell white beads. He had on a beige and cream suit and oddly his own ensemble seemed to match hers.

"I wasn't aware that this was a masquerade Mr. O'Dare."

"Call me Phillipe. And it isn't. I just don't like to be seen by people. When I am, one day, it'll cause a great flurry of course but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

She could see his grey-blue eues harden while saying this and therefore she didn't press the matter any further. However, she wasn't the least bit satisfied with his answer.

He led her through one of the rooms into a balcony which overlooked the moonlit gardens. She could already see the servants making arrangement for the display.

"So, Ms. Granger, in all the time I've been hosting these parties, I haven't seen you here even once. I was pleasantly surprised to see you walk through those doors tonight. Any reason as to why you've been boycotting these?"

"Well to tell you the truth, I think it's awfully rude to just show up without invitation to somebody's house. I realize that the whole of London does it, but that doesn't make it right. I came here today because my friend from Australia begged me to, and to tell you the truth, I was extremely curious to know more about you."

"About me? Why?"

"As you said, we are neighbours and it's a shame that I don't know anything about you. I don't know how you look, how old you are, where you're from...it's just blank space in my head."

"Now that, you see Ms. Granger, is something I reveal to only the select few. Not my face, but the rest. I am twenty-eight years old and fought in the war from your side. I happened to chance upon a whole lot of money in real estate and through investment in wizard and muggle firms all over the continent and even outside. About two years ago, I bought this manor, and settled down here in my home city."

"Did you go to Hogwarts? "

"Yes. Yes I did."

"Well that's funny because I don't ever recall a Phillipe O'Dare in the year above mine. You see I'm twenty seven and you should have, must have been in the year above mine."

"I was actually... I just went by a different name."

Hermione remained silent at this. Who was this mysterious man, her neighbour, actually? What did he have to hide? Why keep such outrageous parties every weekend? She had these, and a million other questions in mind which she couldn't say out loud for fear that her new acquaintance might get offended.

"It's funny,"she said with a soft smile, " how often people are misguided by the very people they are admired by."

"The meaning of all this Ms. Granger?"

"I simply mean to say that if you are speaking to a person who admires you or respects you, you are less likely to get an honest, forthright answer from them. They will be so caught up to say only that which will please you, that they will keep most important information from you, in fear of offending you."

"I have a faint inkling of what you mean to say. If a person, on the other hand, dislikes me, he will be more willing to disclose even that which I might not like, just so he can offend me, because he has made up his mind that come what may, he will not like me."

"That's exactly what I meant to say, Mr. O'Dare."

"Please call me Phillipe. "

She smiled and then spoke after a moments hesitation, "Is it true that you don't speak to anyone at these parties?"

"Well, that fact doesn't hold true anymore, does it now?"

"So you've broken a rule, a personal rule, by speaking to me. Why?"

"I couldn't. ...I couldn't resist the temptation called Hermione Granger. Truth be told, like you, I was very curious to know more about you. I see you leave the house at exactly 7 a.m. everyday to go to that preschool you run and come back at 5 p.m. everyday. You hardly ever leave for the weekends, and hardly bring anyone home. If I might say so, we just might be two sides of the same galleon Ms. Granger. "

"So you've been keeping track of me?"

"Now how do I say this?" He thought for a bit and then said, "Not track, per se, but I do get awfully curious about mysteries I can't solve, and you, Hermione, are nothing less than a mystery."

"How am I a -"

"Look," he said, cutting her short, " it's time for the best part of the night."

And they both turned to the garden to watch the brilliant display of fireworks, brilliant enough to rival that of Professor Flitwick's.

She was about to say something when she was interrupted by someone at the door.

"Excuse me sir, but we have America on the line. It's essential that you speak at once."

"Ah, Jonathan old sport, can't a man have some enjoyment with a charming young lady?"

"America, sir."

"Very well. I'll just be along." At that the servant bowed his head and left. "I'm very sorry Hermione but business calls. I trust you'll show yourself the way back down to the hall? I would accompany you but this floo call is rather urgent and cannot be stalled."

"Oh no that's fine, Phillipe. I had fun tonight. Thank you so much for the lovely company. "

"It was absolutely my pleasure." He bent down, took one of her hands in his, and lightly kissed the air on top of it. Hermione could already feel the blush rising in her cheeks. How was it, that one man, whose face she hadn't seen yet, seemed to elicit such a reaction from her?

"Will I be seeing you again next week, mon cher?"

She was at a loss for words. Had he just sort of invited her? She pulled herself together and replied, "We'll see how that goes Phillipe. "

And then she nodded her head once, let herself out of the balcony to descend down the stairs, and even then, she could hear the light chuckle of the mystery that was Phillipe O'Dare, ringing in her ears.

A/n - So that is the first chapter guys... hope you liked it because I personally am enjoying writing this a lot. It's going to be a relatively short fic and I also might update a bit late because of my exams and stuff. But anyhow... read and review AND follow/favourite my story guys!

A big thank you to craft rose for the wonderful idea of a Great Gatsby- Harry Potter crossover :D


	3. Chapter 2

**THE SEVEN FACES OF THE SNAKE **

**CHAPTER 2**

**Six weeks earlier, Sunday**

Hermione was reasonably excited. Rubbish. Bollocks. She was so giddy she was afraid of wetting herself. She lightly hummed to herself and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. She picked up a red lipstick and began applying it as efficiently as she could. She wasn't great at these things. She wished Cecilia was there to help her. Her friend had gone back to Australia the day before yesterday and Hermione almost missed her incessant jabbering. Almost. She finished the job at hand and surveyed herself. Quite okay, she deduced, and then got up to carefully ease out any crease which may have settled on her red floor-length gown. She was ready to attend Phillipe's party.

She'd been hesistant at first but had known that she would go the minute one of his many servants had knocked on her door, early that morning. He'd presented her with a silver platter, covered with red cloth, proudly housing a card on it's middle. She'd been genuinely curious, and had picked the card up with apprehension and excite. She almost didn't believe her own eyes when she read the card.

_Dear Ms. Hermione Granger,_

_As you know, there will be another party tonight and it would become even grander if you happened to attend it. This is a cordial invitation, humbly extended to you, along with a small token of appreciation, if you agree to come. I will be expecting your arrival._

_Yours sincerely, _

_Phillipe O'Dare._

She had actually received a formal invitation to Phillipe's legendary parties! And the best part was that he had specially picked out the crimson gown she was now wearing. That had been his gift, a small token of his appreciation. It had probably cost him a galleon, seeing how it was made of pure silk. That was why she carried the finest bottle of firewhiskey she owned along with her to the party. It would be an insignificant token of HER appreciation.

She looked at herself in the mirror above her vanity-desk once again and did a quick check for anything that might be stuck in her teeth. Negative. She patted at her hair once again and sighed at the volume. She had refused to gel it up her head as she had done last time. It flowed naturally down her shoulders, shiny, but still a bit heavy, toned down a little by Sleakezy Hair Gel. Accepting that there was nothing more she could do to improve her appearance, she turned around and slid out of her home, securing the front door behind her.

It was a cold night and she shivered a bit as she walked around the mansion's gardens and reached the metallic outer gates of Mr. O'Dare. They opened magically and once again, she could see a party in full flow. There were carriages parked at one side of the sprawling garden, and on the other side, there were many tables and benches arranged for those who wanted to get away from the boisterous crowds inside. She walked further in, along the pebble walkway and could already hear loud peppy music from inside the house. Must be the hyperactive musician again, she smirked to herself.

She stepped into the grand foyer and was greeted by the same sight she had come across last week. She hoped that Mr. O'Dare would make his appearance soon, or she wouldn't know what to do with herself.

She was about to head towards the Buffett arranged at the corner when she was stopped by a young gentleman. "May I have the pleasure of a dance, ma'am? ", he asked in a courteous manner.

"Oh well... sure why not?", she said, all the while surveying the hall for any sign of a masked man.

"Are you looking for someone?", he asked as he steered her towards the area where all the couples were swaying to the soft music. Strange. Only a minute ago, it had been peppy.

"No one in particular", she replied politely, as he slid an arm around her waist and held one of her's in his other hand. She placed her other arm over his shoulder and introduced herself.

"My name is David Meyers, Hermione. Your name sounds very familiar, though. Are you the famous Hermione Granger?"

She couldn't help but blush. She still wasn't accustomed to people identifying her so many years after the war. "Well, yes. Yes I am."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance ma'am. I've heard very many stories about you."

"All good I hope," she chuckled nervously, "and please don't call me ma'am. It makes me feel absolutely ancient. Hermione will do just fine."

"As you wish, Hermione. "

They swayed to the music a little while longer, until the song was replaced by another one.

"Mind if I cut in?", asked a man wearing a brilliant red mask and Hermione just knew who he was.

"Not at all. It was a pleasure meeting you Hermione. "

"The pleasures all mine, David " she replied, as he turned to another lady.

The host for the evening closed the gap between the two of them in a manner that was alike her former partner's, but in it's own unique style, completely different.

"Phillipe", she exclaimed, inadequately.

"Hermione. How are you?"

"Very well, thank you. Thank you, Phillipe. "

"Might I ask why?"

"For the invitation. And the gift."

"Don't mention it Hermione. I see you're wearing it tonight. How do you like it?"

"Oh it's wonderful, Phillipe. I fell in love with it the moment I saw it."

"I'm glad to hear that. You look beautiful tonight."

"Thank you", she shyly replied and lightly rested her forehead below his shoulder, close to his chest.

And so they danced for a good while before he was disturbed by a servant of his.

He shot her an apologetic look before saying something to his servant. They were whispering and Hermione could not hear a word as the music was quite loud. Phillipe came back to her and spoke into her ear. "Do you mind joining me upstairs for a cup of coffee, maybe? I have an important call to attend and if you could kindly wait in the lounge, I will be with you in just a minute."

"Oh sure. Why not. I would love to."

"Lovely. Jonathan, old sport, would you please escort Ms. Granger to one of the lounges upstairs. Thank you. I won't be very long Hermione...wouldn't like to keep my guest waiting."

She smiled at him as he turned to enter one of the doors just beyond the foyer. She was lost in her thoughts when she suddenly remembered the gift she had brought for her host and went over to one of the tables to retrieve it. Then she followed this Jonathan up the stairs.

He led her through the third door on the left and asked her if she needed anything else. When she said no, he graciously took her leave. Once he was gone, she immediately began walking about the room. It was a sort of living room, with couches and chairs and an ottoman, all surrounding a low coffee table. There were paintings hung on each wall and drapes beside them to cover them if necessary. There was a large french window on one wall which overlooked his back gardens. She walked over to one of the counches and plopped down on it, synonymously taking off her high heels. She hissed in pain as she did so. She wasn't accustomed to wearing such high, tight heels and her feet ached like the devil. She gingerly propped up her feet on the ottoman to inspect the damage when Phillipe came in. She hurriedly put her feet down as she smiled at him. How mortifying! He had just met her and already she'd come across as a house-dirtying freak.

"Do your feet hurt, Hermione? ", he asked in a concerned manner.

"Just a little bit. I'm not used to wearing heels", she admitted with a shaky laugh.

"Well then you most certainly must put your feet up on the ottoman. And I will immediately go and fetch some ice from Jonathan." He made to get up but Hermione stopped him by placing a hand on his arm.

"No Phillipe it's fine. It's not a shoe bite or anything extremely painful. The slight throbbing will go away in a bit", she said, pulling him down to sit beside her on the couch.

"Okay then. I see Jonathan has made arrangement for the firewhiskey. Do you-"

"Oh that bottle is actually mine, uhm, I wanted to give it to you as a sort of token of MY appreciation."

"Oh. I see." He smiled. "That really wasn't necessary. You didn't have to-"

"I wanted to."

He smiled again and then asked her "Would you like to drink some right now?"

"Oh no, not really. I'm a bit of a lightweight, if I may say so myself. I wouldn't want to impose my alcoholic self on you. Trust me, not a pretty picture", she said, lightly chuckling.

"Very well. I have impressive capacity though. I hardly ever get into drunken stupor."

"Then what's the point of drinking?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well first of all you intake all that alcohol and then stay normal, like no bubbly, heady feelings, and no, you know, embarrassing experiences, like puking or messaging ex-boyfriends with stuff like I miss you, which, I have never done personally, but friends of mine have... Why are you laughing?"

He replied after a moment, shoulders still shaking with mirth, "No it's just that it's funny to see you speak like this. I never knew this side of yours. Who knew? Hermione Granger actually wants the after effects of drinking. The stuff people hate, is what you like. You really are something Ms. Granger."

"I never said I WANT those effects. I just said that if you want to drink, do it properly with all the hangover headaches and foggy memory. Or just stick to good ol' butterbeer."

"You make a valid point but I'm afraid I'll never know the feeling. Now, would you like some good ol' butterbeer? "

She grinned up at him and said, "I would most certainly love some."

"Right at your service ma'am. "

"Don't ma'am me."

"What if I do?"

"Then I'll... I'll sir you."

"Oh we don't want that to happen do we? Don't worry, I won't call you ma'am, Hermione."

He opened up a cabinet at one end of the room and took out a bottle of butterbeer, a bottle opener, and two glasses. He put them in front of her and poured two equal portions in each glass, handing one to her and taking up one for himself.

She took hold of her glass and was surprised to find it cold.

"How -"

"Cooling charm."

"Oh. Well now I feel stupid. Ah well. Here's to those little moments when brains don't work."

They clinked their glasses together and Hermione took a sip of her drink.

"Hmm. This tastes different. Am I detecting some... cinnamon? "

"That's right."

"And coffee."

"Right again."

"Burnt caramel."

"You are starting to seem scary now. Must you know everything?"

"What's that supposed to mean?", she asked with a skeptical look.

"Well, I know for a fact that you ARE the brightest witch of your age and therefore, must know much more than others, but always? Doesn't it get tiring? Knowing everything or having the need to know everything? I feel that sometimes, oblivion is bliss. Not always, of course, but in the minor aspects of life. Does it really matter, what the different ingredients in the butterbeer are? In the process of analyzing the new taste, you just might forget to enjoy it. Close your eyes, and take a big sip of the drink. Don't think about the constituents of it. Just enjoy the flavour. Try it."

Hermione gave him an unsure look, but ultimately closed her eyes and did as he had asked her to. She didn't over-analyze the flavours of the drink, and treated it as it was supposed to be treated - as a drink. She grinned at Phillipe and chugged down the rest of it, giving a light laugh as she put the glass down on the table.

Rubbing her hands together, she said, "You know what, Phillipe? That actually felt good. It even tasted better! I guess I don't really need to deconstruct a butterbeer. It's a habit, I guess."

"Well done Hermione. I knew you could do it", he teased with a wink.

"Oh shut up."

"You've got something."

"What?"

"A little foam moustache. "

"Urgh I hate those. Can't ever avoid them though. They're like the slush after rain", she said, swiping her thumb over her upper lips. "Gone?"

"Not really. "

"Damn. Is there a mirror in this room? Forget it, I'll transfigure my heels."

She quickly changed one heel to a small mirror and swiped against her lips again. The moustache remained. Strange. She swiped against it again and again with no luck. Then she finally realized why her host was shaking with laughter beside her.

"Phillipe! What'd you do?! Dear Merlin! Reverse the spell at once!"

"Give me, ahaha, one good, ehmphaahahaha, reason.", he managed to say before bursting into a fit of raucous laughter again.

Hermione, however, was extremely mortified. She didn't find it funny. Maybe a little bit. But she wanted that moustache off.

"Phillipe take it off, RIGHT NOW, or I swear to God I will hex you to the future in a million different ways!"

"Okay, okay. Fine. Don't get yourself in a twist. I'll do it. Can I click a -"

"No."

"Fine. Spoilsport. Finite Incantatum. Happy?"

Hermione removed her moustache once again and checked in the mirror to be sure. When she was satisfied she gave a stern look to Phillipe, before bursting into a fit of giggles. She lightly smacked him on the arm and said, "You absolute arse. It's not good to tease people this way. But you know what? I had fun. A lot of fun, actually. And all with you. Truth be told, I haven't had this much fun in a long time. All thanks to you."

"Don't thank me. I had a great time too, Hermione. "

"And thank you once again, for the dress, and the invitation, and all the time you spent with me. I appreciate your friendship."

"And I, yours", he said, taking her hand in his and lightly kissing it. "Will I have the pleasure of seeing you next week, Hermione? "

"I guess, though I don't know what you'll surprise me with the next time. Would you awfully mind lending another dose of your cheerful self to me, the next time we meet?"

He smirked and said, "Not at all."

"Goodbye Phillipe. I really must get going, and don't try to escort me back downstairs. I'm not a frail china doll."

"Very well then. Until next time, Hermione."

"Until next time", she said, and walked back down, exited his mansion, strolling back to her home, all the while smiling to herself because of her new friend.

A/n - Read and review. Anything you love or hate; I'm open to all kinds of criticism.


End file.
